


Another (Trying) Day of Being Lawful

by juuten10



Series: A Peek Into the Lawful-Yet-Not-So-Much Life of One Kuroba Kaito [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Established Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Mouri Ran, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Kaito and his shenanigans get him into trouble, Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Post-Conan Kudou Shinichi, Post-Kaitou Kid, kuroba kaito is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juuten10/pseuds/juuten10
Summary: The stunt with the motorbike gets Kaito (and Hakuba) a metaphorical slap in the wrist, and Kaito tries his best to behave.Trying is the key word.





	1. Well, Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it spawns. I don't really have a general direction as to where this fic is heading off to, but I'll try my best. If it isn't obvious, this is a sort-of sequel.
> 
> Unlike the one with the cab driver, this is purely Kaito's POV. This one is generally set on serious and might-be-heavy tones, though not without the snark.

_I screwed up_ , Kuroba Kaito mulls over silently. He has, after all, been trailing his partner along the precinct hallway for the past ten minutes in gruelling silence. Before this, they have been subjected to yet another lecture about knowing boundary and limits and damage (While he politely averts his eyes away and stares at his shoes the entire hour, he knows, or rather, _feels_ burning gazes from both his partner and their superior, the former souring more and more by every passing second).

Okay, he admits that he may have taken things too far when pursuing suspects, witnesses and criminals alike and that he could have chosen wiser course of actions before the damages were done, body-wise, mind-wise, and money-wise. It does not help that Hakuba’s patience has been running very thin lately, what with his wife’s pregnancy and crime rates not taking a break, in addition to his antics.

Hakuba is his partner because he is one of the few actual people he sometimes listens to in the precinct, but his superiors may have second guesses after the trends. (There are only a few people he genuinely respects beyond titles and whatsit, even fewer that he actually likes. Hakuba is both, not that he would admit it to anyone; he would sooner eat his white top hat.)

At long last, after almost-half-an-hour of silent treatment, Hakuba turns around, Kaito almost bumping into his broad back. “Oh, for God’s sake, will you leave me alone?”

Kaito fidgets in his place, tugging the hem of the collar of his grey button-up. He chances a glance at the other’s face, and promptly looks away from Hakuba’s weary and tired eyes.

“Okay,” Kaito finally says, not daring to sound remotely enthusiastic. He meets Hakuba’s sceptical eyes and apologises, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The other’s breath hitches for a moment, probably not expecting any remorse or apology. (Contrary to what people think, Kaito _knows_ how to be a decent human being and is one. It is just that he does not care enough to show it often and openly. He actually wonders how Hakuba thinks of him.)

As Hakuba blinks his surprise away, he nods, “Yeah. Just remember to keep it down.”

Kaito offers a careful nod and walks away.

 

 

“Y’know,” Not particularly talking at anyone, Kaito lifts his glass to eye level and looks at how the meagre light of the bar reflects and refracts off the glass of Bourbon. “I actually wonder if I really look like a jerk.”

An undignified snort comes from his side. “You mostly act like one,” one Kudou Shinichi offers from his glass of gin and tonic (the irony does not need to be addressed as both of them exchange knowing glances when he ordered it).

“Pot, meet kettle,” Kaito scoffs at the glass, then drops it to the counter. “You’re one to talk, shithead.”

“Point,” Kudou allows, tipping his glass to Kaito’s direction. “Cheers, to us two jerks.”

He raises a sceptical eyebrow as he traces the rim of the rocks glass, and with a tone just as unenthusiastic as he feels, he concedes, “Cheers.”

Both of them ordered mild ones, not really intending to be rid of their self-control just yet this early in the week even when they long for some poison; they have long hours of work in the precinct waiting for them first thing in the morning.

As Kaito takes slow sips, he sneaks a glance to the fellow inspector beside him. As always, his hair is immaculate except for the tuft of cowlick at the back standing up defiantly. Kudou still has his black suit over his white shirt, still quite tidy, albeit a bit ruffled from the day. He, too, takes his time sipping his poison.

Silence passes over them, not quite the unpleasant sort. The spell is promptly broken by a few soft words from Kudou, “If you want to talk, I’m all ears.”

Kaito scoffs, not quite meaning it and leans back to his bar stool. He stares at the ceiling, sitting in a contemplative silence. The other takes his silence with a stride.

“Ran’s expecting next Saturday,” Kudou tells him. “It’s a she.”

“Congrats,” he replies absentmindedly. The sentiment is there, but he does not really feel like channelling it to his tone.

Kudou nods and politely thanks him. “We’re contemplating on her name; Ran seems to like Akemi.”

Kaito raises an eyebrow but does not comment on it, tipping the contents of the glass down his throat.

 

 

Home is home, but it feels suffocating nonetheless. He has long since moved out of his childhood home in Ekoda. Sure, his mother still returns there from time to time, but it is practically vacant most of the time.

For now, he has settled in a small apartment in Beika; closer to work, closer to the hotspot of crime. (No thanks to the Beika Shinigami as well.)

Closing the door behind him, he toes off his boots and slips on his slippers, grasping the wall beside him for the light switch and flipping it on. The light flickers overhead, lighting up the entrance and the small hallway. Not bothering to arrange his shoes, he makes a beeline to the kitchen.

The kitchen is dark, but the meagre light spilling from the hallway is enough for him. He steps around the dining table and goes to the fridge. Hunching over, he opens the door, holding it with a leg and takes a pitcher of cold water. Too tired to reach for the cabinet to take a glass, he tips the pitcher to his mouth, relishing the cold and shock the water gives to his body. He really needs it after some alcohol-poisoning.

After downing almost half the pitcher, he puts it back inside and turns his head to the clock hanging beside the fridge. It is almost one in the morning, and in six hours, he needs to be on a tip-top condition for the briefing.

(And if his gut feeling is as trusty as it has ever been in his whole former night career, tomorrow, or rather, later hours may be able to salvage whatever trust he broke during his current not-quite-lawful-but-supposed-to-be-so-or-that’s-what-the-job-description-says-anyway career. He will keep his word to Hakuba, no matter what it takes, and save their job from falling into shambles.)

For now, he will embrace the darkness and try to sleep off his exhaustion.

 

 

A ringing from his doorbell is what wakes him up. He rolls over the bed and reaches into his nightstand for the alarm clock. Not a second later the clock blares out hideous honks and he practically slams down the off button. He may have thrown the clock too harshly as it bounces off his pillow and falls to the floor with a thud.

He knows he looks horrible when he fetches the door. Without sparing a glance to the guest, he leaves the door open for her to let herself in. Even while not meeting the other’s eyes, he feels the judging gaze he has been subjected to from his childhood to adulthood. He managed to change into an oversized tee but did not bother getting his pyjama pants before falling unceremoniously into a heap of pillows—hence the boxers that is barely visible under the shirt.

Without any prompting, which he would have gotten if he stayed there a moment longer, he goes on his quest to make himself look a little more representable.

He splashes cold water in his face at the sink in an effort to wake himself up. When he looks up to the mirror, back still hunched, he sees terrible eye bags under listless eyes. He reaches for his toothbrush and toothpaste, and proceeds to turn the water heater on.

 After some vigorous brushing in his part, partially in effort to getting rid of morning breath, he steps in the shower. He revels in the hot scalding of the water upon his skin, and eventually becomes more aware and awake. While the slumber has been too fitful to his liking, a couple hours of sleep is enough when assisted by warm shower (too many bottles of energy drinks and a can of coffee help a lot, too, no matter how he despises the acidic bitter aftertaste). Proper washing up and scrubbing done (which he, quite obviously, neglected to do in the wee hours before), he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel under his waist.

When he opens the door, his guest on the couch looks up from her phone and scans a look over him. Apparently satisfied at his freshly-showered half-naked self, she nods, stands up and goes into the kitchen without any word.

Having no energy to properly show his exasperation, he goes on another quest to retrieve clean clothes for work.

 

 

“Kudou sent you,” he says while munching on a mouthful of toast. It is purely a statement, not a question.

“Don’t speak while you’re eating,” she scolds, not missing a beat. She takes a sip from her glass of milk and replies, “And actually, it’s Hakuba-kun. Kudou-kun told him about your bar-hopping last night and Hakuba-kun sends me here for a morning call.”

Kaito blanches at Aoko, now actually looking at her. Her hair is way shorter and more tamed than her high school days (her maturity left unsaid, she has become quite a beauty; the only thing that does not seem to change is that she nags at him more than his mother does collectively). Her facial expression betrays nothing as she keeps the impassive look on, downing all the milk and takes her plate and glass to the sink.

“It’s not bar-hopping when we only went to _one_ bar, drank one glass, and went to our respective homes right after,” he tries, carefully not saying anything to the latter point she mentioned.

“Same difference,” she coolly responses. As she washes the dishes, she says, “You haven’t talked properly with Hakuba-kun.”

He considers it as he takes another bite off the buttered toast. She takes the silence as confirmation and sighs. Once she is done with the dishes, she slides over and plops down the chair directly facing him.

“He’s your partner,” She crosses her arms and leans over, chiding him, “A single ‘Sorry’ does not immediately magick everything to be better.”

When it does not look like he is going to reply, she closes her eyes and sighs yet again. “Hakuba-kun is very tired, and your way of doing things tend to get under everyone’s skin,” he holds his snort, then her tone grows softer, “It gets the job done, though, and faster before any permanent loss happens.”

Now that he has finished his toast, he stares at his glass of chocolate milk. He downs it in one go.

“Well, I’ll get going now,” Aoko gets up and slings her purse over her shoulder. “Gotta prepare for an editorial meeting due in a couple of hours.”

As he stands at the end of the hallway, watching her toeing her flats, he calls out, “Aoko.”

She looks up and two pairs of blue eyes meet each other. After a beat, he manages out, “Sorry, and thank you.”

Before she turns to the door, he catches a smile on her face. “Like I said, ‘sorry’ ain’t gonna cut it, Bakaito. Hakuba-kun is worried about you.”

When the door closes with a click, he leans on the wall beside him and gazes at the empty air, letting out a breath, “Huh.”


	2. Preps Up, Here We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listening to briefings has never been his forte; his lies more in deceit, shuffling cards, and nicking wallets.

The briefing is, to put it into simple words, boring. It has never been interesting, not for the hundreds of hours Kaito has collectively spent inside the room during his whole career. Out of the corner of his eye, He spots Kudou yawning discretely behind his hand two seats beside him. Hakuba, to his credit, tries not to yawn for the past hour, but when Kudou does, he unfortunately does as well.

It is his sense of self-preservation that actually makes him resist the urge to brighten up the room (oh, he has his ways with glitters, balloons, and hair dyes, alright, and he is making an effort _not_ to resort on those), seeing as last time is the last straw with their superiors. Instead, he entertains himself with the cards he sneaked in, palming one after another as he listens using half an ear.

This case is quite big, from what he already knows. Not quite as big as _the takedown_ , but sizeable in its own rights. After the fall of _the_ Organisation, the underground was, and still is, in a chaotic state, what with the loss of one of the worst and most powerful lynchpin that held a huge part of the world’s crimes, including Japan.

Now with the power vacuum going on, smaller organisations and Yakuza families are fighting it out and trying to one-up the others. Those do not end well for the most part.

Meanwhile, with the takeout of the organisation, smuggling rings and drug cartels in association are also inevitably exposed, and they are on their way to dismantle one of the major ones. That being said, the scale of the operation does not simply make the briefing any less unentertaining.

He continues to hum in agreement to whatever the officer in front is talking about (he has read _every_ single page of any useful information, and whatever inference the officer makes he can conclude it by himself), moving on to shuffling cards on his lap, careful not to be seen. Hakuba has shot him disapproving gazes, but Kaito simply shrugs and tilts his head to Kudou who has taken to playing Sudoku in his phone.

At long last, the officer whose name he does not even bother to remember steps down the podium and a round of polite applause goes around the room. Right then, the Superintendent takes the stage.

When the clapping dies down, he starts, “The teams, five to six persons each, have been assigned per achievements and specialty, and all of you are currently seated among your members-“

When the Superintendent says so, Kaito looks at his side, pleasantly surprised to see Hakuba, Kudou, and two other officers who he has only ever seen in a passing. Huh. He wonders what the actual criteria is, seeing as they have two of the most intelligent detectives of the precinct, one equally-intelligent troublemaker who is known for getting too hands-on when the situation calls for it, and two other nondescript members of the force.

Kudou seems to sense his train of thoughts when he looks over to Kaito, and smiles sardonically. “We’re one of the main investigative teams,” he turns his head to Hakuba and offers a hand. “Well, it’s been a while since we’re on the same team.”

Hakuba’s lips tug at the edges too as he shakes Kudou’s hand. “A pleasure.”

 

 

Almost immediately, Hakuba is decided to be the leader of the team by the process of elimination.

Kaito is, as expected, not one of the candidates for obvious reasons. On the other hand, Kudou, too, has gotten into many troubles for listening but not obeying direct orders of his superiors (he argues that he merely found loopholes and worked around it for the best results; they all beg to differ).  For that, Kudou is on the same boat as Kaito and Hakuba are. The fact and routine where he has scared off his yet-another partner (who changes every other week) when also-yet-another disfigured human head found its way into Kudou’s mail at work (wrapped in a box, yes, but it did not make it any less horrible) did not help either.

Meanwhile, Kondou and Mishima, who both turn out to be newbies, poor them, have already been intimidated by the prospect of being in the same team as two of the most respected members of the force _and_ the Joker of the Beika precinct (when he was finally aware of the nickname, it had stuck). 

To be fair, Hakuba is more level-headed and law-abiding than they give him credit for. At the very least, he does not go off without heads up and disobeying many orders (which he eventually did anyway seeing Kaito run off and tried to prevent any more incriminating damage to their unsalvageable reputation and still-can-be-saved jobs).

At the moment, all five of them are gathered in one of the smaller meeting rooms. Not surprisingly, only the newbies take extensively-detailed notes from the briefing; Kudou only writes up his plans, and Hakuba summarises only the important points that he has already read up before the briefing even starts, only adding a little bit here and there. Kaito does not even do any note-taking—Hakuba does enough for the both of them.

As such, when Mishima presents his notes and reviews them, Kaito slinks nearer to Hakuba and reads his notes to review them: a stakeout is due later this evening. They will be confirming the runners’ schedules and the going-ons for the drug transactions. They will do more recon than anything, seeing as the tip-off they have is from an anonymous source.

Finally, they start the actual planning.

Kondou and Kaito will be their in; Kudou and Hakuba tend to be recognised, the former being the one who orchestrated the fall of the Black Organisation while the latter rumoured to be the one of the next-few-in-line for the highest title in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. The less people involved in sneaking in, the better chances any plan will work out. Kondou graduated as the top of his class, so he may be able to help out a bit.

Kudou and Mishima will be their getaway and backup if needed, standing by in a nearby neighbourhood with a car parked behind a family restaurant. Hakuba will track all of them and relay whatever message the headquarters have for them.

The centre of the planning is, of course, Kaito’s skills with deceit, waiting tables at illegal clubs, sleight of hand and ad-libs.

 

 

Kaito, now clad in dark green jacket, white tee, jeans and baseball cap, looking the part of college student in severe need of caffeine, stands in front of the drinks aisle of a convenience store. As he idles, choosing between two brands of canned coffee, he keeps an ear out to the entrance.

When the target enters at seven o’clock sharp, Mishima immediately approaches him from the other side of the store—let’s see how the newbie fares with lying.

Mishima turns out to be not too bad at it; if he stops glancing around, the lie will be more convincing as he claims that the other’s only grandmother has been admitted to the hospital for stroke, and that he, as the nurse, recognises the grandson from a photo inside her purse, deciding to tell him when they do not have any other means of identifying her and other contacts.

Seeing the target distracted enough, Kaito grabs a can of coffee (aside from cover, he needs the kickstarter as well) and leaves for the cashier. On the way out, he deliberately bumps into the man, muttering low apologies.

Once he gets outside, he pops the can open, taking big gulps with one hand. He shoves his other hand into a pocket, and ducks into an alleyway.

Taking his time, he hums as he skims through the wallet he nicked, and finds the ID.

He is not ashamed that his grin may have gotten a little mad as he crunches the can and tosses it to a garbage bin. He pulls off the intercom out of his jacket and talks to it, all the while shedding the jacket off, “Prep done, Sherlock. Have Hare pull Alice away and get Jack here; it’s Joker’s stage now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain's almost out of juice, and I hope that this isn't riddled with grammar or vocabulary or spelling mistakes.  
> Sherlock: Hakuba  
> Joker: Kaito  
> Alice: the poor guy  
> Hare: Mishima  
> Jack: Kondou  
> I still haven't decided what Shinichi's codename's gonna be, but anyhow, please leave a Kudo if you love the chappie! Or comment if I've got any mistakes or if there's any question.


	3. Backstage Prep, Final Check, One, Two, Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito is in his best element; charming club managers, club bartenders (not so much), and club employees while setting the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings of brief and ambiguous mentions to prostitution ahead. If you aren't comfortable with those themes, I'm sorry to say that it may get a little, well, spicier in the next chapters.

“Nakamura sends you as his replacement?” A sceptical eyebrow is raised at his direction.

Flashing his most charming smile, Kaito nods and leans over the counter of the bar, arms crossed. “He sounds rushed in the phone, says his grandma needs him or whatever gibberish he mumbles.”

“Well, whatever,” The bartender places down the champagne glass he has been polishing. He then slinks to the back door.

Kaito waits, examining the club while at it—loud music, DJ on the stage, colourful spotlights, drunk and sweaty patrons everywhere. There are a few private booths spread around the corners of the room and the second floor, which he will have to find his way into. The counter is empty aside from a few half-empty wine and rocks glasses whose owners he presumes has disappeared into the dance floor. Another employee—waitress?—stands close to the edge of the counter, her face carefully blank.

The bartender is back not a minute later, unlocking the latch on the bar counter and gestures Kaito to go through the door. He complies.

Once he goes through the door, he lets out an appreciative whistle at the storeroom—every kind of liquor is stored, some in plain sight, some he guesses inside the huge refrigerator at the other end of the room. In front of said refrigerator, a woman holding a scratchpad.

When he closes the door behind him with a click, the woman meets his eyes. She raises her eyebrow as if challenging him. If that is how the game goes, he will play along.

Directly staring at her eyes, Kaito smiles politely, ducking his head with a bow. “The manager of Orange Camellia, I presume?”

She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly, strands of dyed brown hair falling from the loose bun to her shoulders.  She tucks the scratchpad under her arms and crosses her arms, “What of it?”

He is sure that the bartender has divulged the ‘apparent’ reasons of his appearances, but he decides to humour her anyway.  “Nakamura Kouji-san has to attend to a sick relative, so I was called to help out. He figures that the place needs all the help it can get.”

Her expression does not change throughout his explanations, but she lets out a curious hum. She gives him a cursory glance from head to toe—already shedding the jacket from earlier, he is now wearing a dark blue button up along with a pair of dark slacks; formal but not too much. The intensity of the stare almost makes him want to squirm in place and bolt out of the way, but his self-control gets him fixed at the spot while smiling amicably.

As she walks to him and leans her body forward, she may have invaded too much of his personal space, her perfume too strong for his and his nostrils’ comfort. She gives a nod to herself, taking a few steps back in the process to his relief. He pointedly keeps the smile fixated in his face.

Seemingly satisfied at whatever she finds, she finally gives him a grin which does not give him any peace of mind in the slightest. As dread creeps up his spine, she breaks the silence. “How experienced are you at offering _services_?”

 

 

On the bright side, since Nakamura is a waiter, Kaito, too, by default, waits private booths in his stead. On less brighter side, the spare uniform is a little too tight for him, and that is saying much, seeing as he is not the bulkiest man.

The black waistcoat hangs tight to his upper body, and the sleeves of the equally-black button up clings tightly to his forearms. The tacky blue bowtie almost chokes him, but enduring all sorts of things is practically plastered on the job description of being a cop.

Apparently, to his immense luck (or unluckiness, you take a pick), there are usually only three waiters on the shift (weekday, quite given), one of which is on sick leave. (Another is being escorted and interrogated by the police as this goes on, but hey, life is hard.) Meanwhile, the other waiter beside Kaito is a timid young woman who looks like she is in her early twenties, and the job does not exactly lets off until midnight at the earliest.

Both of them stand by next to the bar counter, waiting for orders. He has run around a bit delivering sparkly drinks to ladies all across the room, but he does not quite get the chance to sneak around the second floor.

Not much longer, someone sits in the middle of the counter and orders a drink. Even without looking, he knows that it is Kondou, playing the role of a stressed salaryman in dire need of solo recreational drinking.

His earpiece (concealed by the meagre lighting and colourful spotlights) buzzes, and Hakuba’s voice filters quietly through his right ear, “Jack on position. Joker, do whatever you have to do.”

He does not reply, merely letting a faint smile grace his lips.

No longer after the confirmation, lady luck must have smiled upon them as the phone under the counter rings. Before the second ring, the bartender fetches the call.

The bartender seems to consider something, tilting his head a bit to the side as he listens to the one on the other side of the phone. He sneaks a not-so-surreptitious glance towards Kaito and the woman beside him then answers carefully, “Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, he is unavailable at the moment-“ asking for Nakamura, eh? “-My apologies, Sir, but he, too, is on the leave.” Oh? The one on the sick leave too? If Kaito’s memories have yet to fail him, he is pretty sure that he is a male too.

Now, the bartender does not attempt to sneak his stare at them. “No, no, Sir, actually, we do have someone available. I’ll send them now."

After a few more exchange of pleasantries, more on the bartender’s end, he hangs up the phone, goes to the edge of the counter, and beckons the woman to go nearer. Kaito cannot really listen in the conversation, seeing as the music is too loud and they move to the other edge, away from Kaito’s prying ears, but by the not-so-assuring smile on the bartender’s face, what the woman is asked to do must not be pleasant. From what reading lips can accomplish, he catches the words ‘please’, ‘customer’, and ‘drinks’ from the bartender’s end. The woman is facing the other way, but while he cannot confirm it, the haunted look on her face says it all.

Throughout every conversation Kaito has had personally participated as well as eavesdropped in, it is pretty clear that the bar also offers _other services_ , which is by no means much more illegal than tax evasion, obviously, most likely in expense of the employees. One of the regular patrons of such services is one major player in drug trafficking, who is somewhat known to have tastes in either sex, albeit a little more fond of the less fair gender. This is his only chance, handed to him in a silver platter, not that he is going to refuse it.

As the woman leaves through the back door next to the counter, not the storeroom one, he follows a second later, making up pretense of going to the restroom. He pointedly ignores the evil-eye the bartender gives him and makes his way there.

When the door shuts behind him, the woman startles and jumps at her feet. She does not turn, though, still fixed in the space. Taking in her actions, he slowly approaches her, makes sure his footsteps are soft yet not too silent either, and taps her in the shoulder.

She flinches, her shoulders jerking, but reigns herself in while her knuckles are still too white from clenching too tight. It takes much of his self-control not to lash out at whatever makes her so terrified.

“Hana-san?” Kaito begins as gently as possible. She has yet to raise her head. “Are you sure you wanna do the job?”

That gets her to jerk her head upright, nearly banging his chin in the process has he not moved out of the way in the very last second. She does not even try to form a smile, “What do you mean?”

Kaito must have let on more anger than he thinks he does, seeing as she falters under his gaze no more than a beat later. She turns, deigning to walk away, but he catches grip of her left wrist, strong enough to keep her in place but weak enough for her to wrench it free if she wants to.

“Look,” he says, but she interrupts.

“I don’t need your pity, they ask for me, and I'll go,” she spits.

“That doesn’t mean that you are any more willing.”

She falls silent at that. Before he can say anything more, she sighs. “What more can I do? Working here is not the most glorious job that I have, any more additional service for tips doesn’t make it much worse.”

He keeps his gaze at her, fingers still locked on her wrist. “I’ll do it.”

Her chocolate eyes widen at a fraction. “You don’t mean it.”

He smiles, knowing very well that it does not quite reach his eyes. “I need the money,” a white lie, “and you won’t have to do anything that can incriminate your future career in the medical field.”

A flinch. Jackpot. He may not be a Sherlockian or by any means a good detective, but like any other cop, he observes. He continues, “It’s not that hard to guess; while you wear much perfume, there is faint antiseptic smell to your neck.”

He figured out that she is a student when he saw her reaching up her nose to lift her non-existent glasses when she murmured some medical tech terminologies as if committing those into her memories. Her hands also twitched while doing so, looking like she was flipping flashcards. He does not need to tell her all that—she will think that he is a creep.

She looks troubled, chewing her lips in consideration, brows furrowed.

She eventually accedes to his demands, telling him everything he needs to know about the _customer_ , and he tells her what to say to the bartender.

At long last, the Joker has his in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about clubs and prostitution and the like, neither do I know much about police briefings; so far, I've been bullshitting my way through terms and proceedings. If there are any mistakes, blatant or not, feel free to mention it.
> 
> Please leave a kudo if you enjoy the story so far, and a comment will drive me to more enthusiasm!


End file.
